May 26, 2016 |
My family’s not normal but let’s be honest . . . neither is yours.
I swear this happened one time — in America to boot.
I was at my hometown mall watching my daughter (a toddler at the time) trip around the foam rubber, indoor playground just outside of the Panda Express. I hadn’t been a father long but I knew from watching TV that playground chit chat was a thing. I was ready — or so I thought.
A woman, whom I believe was Chinese, kicked off a conversation.
“Is that your kid?”
“Good opening question” I thought. “I can do this.”
“Yeah.” I said with a chuckle that simultaneously meant, “isn’t she cute” and “chit chat is easy.”
Her turn.
“She doesn’t look like you.”
I felt like maybe she was unnecessarily stating the obvious but I was not deterred.
Chuckling again I said, “Yeah. She’s adopted.”
Now this is the moment where a normal person has expectations right? You expect any number of responses like — “Aww, that is so sweet” or “Wow, that’s really great” or “Oh cool, my cousin is adopted.”
But nope. I got . . .
“Hmm . . . cause you can’t make one?”
I’m just going to pause my blog for a moment to let the awkwardness fully sink in. Continue when you are able.
I have pondered this moment for more than ten years now and I still don’t know what the right response would have . . . no wait . . . could have been.
“Well, we’ve . . . uh . . . you know . . . we’ve um, tried . . . but uh . . . I’m sorry have we met because I don’t remember catching your name before you know . . . you started asking me about the working order of my reproductive system . . . . . . . . . My name is Jerry?”
Honestly I get it. On two different levels I get it.
Having lived in China since shortly after that moment I’ve learned a lot about (and even come to appreciate) the “unencumbered” nature of Chinese enquiry. If it’s weird, ask about it. Why wouldn’t you?
I also realize that she was just culturally unencumbered enough to enquire about the the same thought that goes through everyone’s head when they see us.
We’re not normal. I get it.
We’re not like the other delightful little mall families whose kids are shrunken versions of themselves (no offense if you are one of those — you’re very cute). We are two white parents with a Chinese daughter and a black son and fair enough, the first thought that you think when you see us may start with “awww” or “hmm” but it ends you “cause you can’t make one.”
It’s ok if you had that thought . . . and thank you for not saying it out loud.
The first thoughts never define a relationship unless the relationship ends there. What you’ll discover, no matter how you choose to get to know us, though, is that we blend.
Beautifully.
In fact we blend so much that now, when I see pictures like the one up there with our faces all squished together, I do a double take . . . and I remember that we really don’t look much like our kids . . . but man we go together.
Seriously.
Look at us.
That’s blended.
I forget though . . . virtually always . . . what is so blatantly obvious to everyone who sees us for the first time. Hang out with us for a day and you’ll forget too.
My family’s not normal but let’s be honest . . . neither is yours. I love it that way.
That’s all.
Do you blend? Your blendedness may look a lot like ours or nothing at all. Either way, take a minute a brag on your family below.
Know some great blended families — pass it on.
Apr 18, 2016 |
Ahhh “Repatriation”
It’s one of those words that you don’t even look up in the dictionary until you start going through it yourself. For those less traveled it may not even make sense that we would coin a special word for returning to your country after a time away. It’s confusing for family and friends who just call it “coming home.”
“You must be glad to be coming home!”
“Bet you can’t wait to get home.”
“It’s about time you came home.”
These are the sentences that either paralyze the typical Repat or cause them to throw up a little in their mouth. There is no good response.
“Going home” is packed tight with confusion and uncertainty. There is SO much excitement and SO much anxiety sharing the exact same space in your brain that it can be hard to get a grip on what is real.
So we believe the lies. In fact sometimes, we create them.
To be fair — this is no conspiracy against the “home” Goers. Last years repats are not crouched in the shadows, rubbing their bony fingers together and plotting against the newest batch. However, excitement and anxiety create a fertile ground for misunderstanding.
Maybe you’re packing up and not sure what to believe. Maybe you’re a Stayer saying “goodbye” (again). Maybe you’re just glad someone is finally coming home (it’s about time right?).
Regardless . . . there are some things you should consider . . .
Here are 7 lies that Repats often believe:
LIE #1: The Green Grass Lie
“It’ll all be better when I get on that airplane . . . ”
I get it. This expat stuff can be stressful — for some more than others. Crossing cultures, learning languages, eating mystery foods — it’s all an adventure on the front end but rarely stays that way forever. Ironically the cultural stuff usually isn’t the back breaker.
It’s the relationships.
The broken ones. The strained ones. The annoying ones.
The pool of people to connect with is generally shallower when you are away than it is when you are home and the opportunities to escape (at least in a healthy way) are harder to come by.
Regardless of whether your deepest challenges fit in the “cultural”, “relational” or “other” category, it is easy to believe that getting out is going to fix it all.
That’s seldom how it plays out for two reasons:
1. New issues are waiting for you on the other side of the airplane
2. Old issues can fly.
You’ll set yourself up for a huge crash if you’re putting all of your hope into escaping to Utopia. You’ll also leave bits of unresolved brokenness behind you. Those don’t go away because you do and they don’t stay behind you.
LIE #2. The Lie of No One Cares
This lie is born out of a surprising discovery that most expats get smacked in the face with on their first trip home (even if they’re only home for a couple of weeks).
We move our lives to a foreign land. Every day is filled with some new and maddening challenge/adventure. We bumble around like a blindfolded walrus tripping through the forest and somehow we figure out a way to navigate — but one thing is certain — we come away with stories.
Good stories.
Painful stories
Funny stories.
And we can’t wait to tell them.
So the first time someone says “Ohh. You spent two years in China? How was that?” — we think they really want to know . . . in detail.
So we tell them . . .
. . . and it stings a little when we find out they were hoping we could sum up the whole experience in 20 seconds or less.
Or they reduce two years of our life to, “yeah that’s just like when we took a cruise to the Bahamas”.
Or they get excited because their doctor is from Japan.
Or they slap us on the back and say, “HA! Eat any dogs lately?!”
Or they don’t even ask at all.
It is especially shocking when the people we expected to be most interested (typically friends and family) are the least interested.
So it makes sense then, that the repats would feel like no one cares.
But that is a lie for two reasons:
1. Caring goes beyond frame of reference. People have an understanding about your host culture that may be restricted to what they have seen on the evening news — or a hometown stereotype — or a bad joke. They’re not going to be as connected as you are and to be fair — you don’t really care that much about their cruise. Let them off the hook. They may not even know the right questions to ask but that doesn’t mean they don’t care.
2. Everyone ≠ No one. Just because EVERYONE doesn’t want to hear your stories does not mean that NO ONE does. They are out there. They may not be the people you thought they would be — but they are there. Be patient. The listeners are worth the wait. When you find them — it is glorious.
3. The Lie of Going Back
“I’ve learned that you don’t go back . . . but you do go forward.”
I heard this a few weeks ago from a man who was packing up both literally and figuratively. He was in the final days of a decades long cross-cultural experience that has taken him to both Asia and the Middle East. It’s not the first time he has repatriated so he has the benefit of gleaning from his own wisdom.
Two things change when you go away from home.
You . . . and home.
Your world gets rocked when you see it from another one. Your perspectives are stretched. Your positions are challenged. Your understandings grow. It’s not uncommon for repats to feel like they are a completely different person than they were when they came in.
Here’s the kicker — moving away is not WHY you changed.
Try going to your high school reunion and finding someone who didn’t change. Had you never left you would still be a different person. You might be a different, different person but you would be different nonetheless. Your expat experience is just a part of the story of HOW you changed.
You’re going forward to a different place with different people . . . and you are different.
That’s a whole lot of different.
You’re in for a shock if you think you’re going back to the same.
4. The Lie of “These People”
“These people just don’t get it.”
“These people are so caught up in their own little world.”
It’s all too easy for the globetrotter to turn judgy when they reconnect with their homeland. Ironically it’s the same phenomenon that occurs when we cross cultures in the first place. We start dropping the “THEY” bomb (usually as soon as we land) on every situation that doesn’t make sense.
“THEY eat some weird stuff.”
“THEY drive like maniacs.”
“THEY have no respect for personal space.”
It’s hard sometimes, to see the trees for the forest so we lump THEM all together and we notice what THEY do that is different from US. The unstated insinuation, of course, is that OUR way is the right way and THEIR way is wrong. There are seminars to help you process the fallacy of this kind of thinking when you’re preparing to travel abroad — but it’s often a shock when we come back the other way. Who would have guessed that ALL of the people who used to be SO right would become SO wrong while we were away.
It took some time for me to realize that my time abroad (the first time) had not granted me total enlightenment. However, I did notice that people started gritting their teeth when I began EVERY SINGLE sentence with, “In China we . . . “
I could tell what they were thinking . . .
“This guy just doesn’t get it.”
“This guy is so caught up in his own little world.”
They were wrong about me (at least partially) — but I was wrong about them too.
Prepare to cut some slack.
5. The Lie of Never Again
Going home farewells can be harder than the leaving home ones. Don’t get me wrong — it’s not easy to leave home but there is generally a sense that you will see these people again. They are your people. This is your place. You’ll be back.
That’s not likely the case when you end your expat time. It’s hard to imagine investing the same amount of time and money in a trip back to your host country as you would to your home country. Even if you do you’re likely to discover that it changed even more dramatically and more quickly than home did.
There is a truth here. It will NEVER be EXACTLY the same — even if you make it back.
BUT (and this is a big but) don’t settle for the lie that you will NEVER see any of these people again.
Two things give hope here:
1. LIFERS are worth it: The investment that is. If you are saying goodbye to some Lifers (friends who will be friends regardless of time and distance) don’t settle for never again. You may need to rearrange your priorities but reconnection is worth spending your frequent flyer miles, saving your pocket change and skipping Disneyland. The return on that investment is outstanding.
Click here to read more about Lifers: Hello Again – The Unanticipated Bright Side of Perpetual Goodbyes
2. Distance has been redefined: Global people use a different measuring stick. When I was growing up we MIGHT drive across town to see someone we hadn’t seen in awhile. Now if friends can make it to the same half of the country we’ll find a way to catch up. I’m amazed at how many random reconnections (along with some near misses) we’ve been able to have with people all around the planet. It’s exciting when it happens.
Never say never.
6. The Lie of Re-Becoming
There is a fear that many repatriates share. It goes something like this:
“I’m afraid that I will slip back into my old life and become who I was before I moved abroad.”
We fear that our broadened horizons will re-narrow. That we’ll settle back into the comforts and conveniences of home so much so that we’ll forget what it was like to live on the other side.
- That our political focus will be only local.
- That our worship will be painfully monocultural.
- That we will forget what genuine community looks like.
- That we will lose our grasp on world events.
- That our friends will only speak our language(s).
- That our neighbors will look, act and think like us.
- That we’ll start liking sad imitations of ethnic foods and forget what the “real thing” actually is.
We’re petrified that we’ll start laughing at the same old jokes, chasing the same old ambitions and settling into the same old values (maybe even prejudices) that living away has broken us out of.
I say fair enough. The fear is legitimate BUT to believe that there is no other option is to fall for a lie.
Settling comes naturally — so be unnatural.
- Watch international news.
- Befriend foreigners.
- Keep learning language.
- Enjoy people who push you, stretch you and disagree with you even when you don’t have to.
- Explore.
- Celebrate your host culture’s holidays.
- Travel every chance you get.
Most importantly — think it through. Sit down and spend some quality time contemplating the skills, the values and the experiences that are a part of your story because you lived abroad. Get creative. How are you going to hold on to those?
7. The Brown Grass Lie
For every impending Repat who can’t wait to get on the plane there is one who is dreading it.
There is no shortage of repatriation chatter. In an effort to be “truth tellers” and good processors we hone in on the painful parts. We find comfort in the other broken people.
It’s not a bad thing.
But when you’re packing up it can freak you out.
The stories are real.
People actually do break down in the cereal aisle. They get overwhelmed by their own language. They forget how to pay bills and stand in line and cross the street. They feel isolated in crowds and unnoticed at their own homecoming parties.
It’s all true.
But keep in mind — we only talk about the surprises. The shocks. The stuff we didn’t see coming. The best bits get overshadowed by the bumblings and we forget to write about the fact that even though we are different and so is home . . . it’s good to be there.
Repatriation is usually hard. But hard doesn’t mean NOT good.
Don’t buy the lie that repatriating can’t be good. It most certainly can.
How about you?
Been there? — Spread a little hope. Share your best Repat moments.
About to repatriate? — What are you afraid of? Looking forward to?
Welcoming someone home? — What’s your plan for doing it well?
Comment below and pass it on.
Feb 14, 2016 |
We are expats. We say goodbye. A lot.
I could end this post right there and know that I have struck a chord. But I won’t.
If you’re living far from home (or you instinctively use finger quotes when you even say the word “home”) you’ve noticed it. You started this whole thing with a massive (if not universal) round of “goodbyes.” Before you were culture shocked. Before you were homesick. Before you ever felt the sting of being a bumbling foreigner, “Goodbye” was the hurdle you had to jump.
It probably went something like this.
via GIPHY
Who knew that there was a skill set for saying goodbye?
But there is. And you got better. Or maybe you didn’t.
Regardless you realized, somewhere along the line, that the first round of goodbyes was exactly that . . . the first . . . and they haven’t stopped since.
Saying goodbye is hard — even when you’re good at it. So signing on (or being signed on) to a life that includes more farewells than you ever could have imagined is, so very often, the darkest, bitterest, most horrible part of the life cross-cultural.
We have spent the past two weeks rediscovering the brightest, sweetest most wonderful part.
“Hello again.”
I am writing this post under the influence of jet lag having spent some UBER-quality with old friends in Prague. They were the other half of the first double date that my wife and I ever went on. I was their son’s first baby sitter and we lived next door in married student housing. He taught me survival Czech for college credit but all I remembered was “put your hands up and give me some money.”
This trip was my first chance to use that in context.
It was rich to catch up with great friends but it was even richer to take inventory of just how blessed we are with so many great friendships.
I call them “LIFERS” (and in doing so recognize the need to distinguish them from the prison sort).
They are people that we have done life with and connected with on some deep, deep, almost inexplicable level and forged a relationship that will absolutely, unquestionably be life long. They are friends that will always be friends regardless of petty little things like time or geography. Some are family members and we’ve never not known them, some we have grown up with and others we’ve actually spent a remarkably small amount of time with. They are all different but the single uniting feature is that, at some point, it has been hard . . . really hard . . . to say goodbye.
I don’t think you can cram Lifers into a neatly packaged box of easily definable (or even describable characteristics) but here are a few things that I’ve noticed:
Lifers pick up where they left off
There is some kind of wormhole that Lifers step through when they say “hello again”. It’s like the elapsed time since they last said goodbye never happened . . . only it did because you’ve still got those memories and you’ve all grown older but it feels like all of that took place in moments and not years. Catching up on what you’ve missed and reminiscing about your past times together are like red and blue play-dough that get all smashed together in a bluey-red, swirly ball.
It’s weird. But wonderful.
The Lifer connection is not strained by poor communication
There is a security between Lifers that is nether contingent nor fragile. “Hello again’s” are not made awkward by guilt. There is no sense of “I thought we were good friends but you never . . .” There is only, “wow, it’s good to be back together.” You’d think we’d be more ashamed. More apologetic. But there is no need.
It’s unnatural. But refreshing.
Lifers are not threatened by other Lifers
Spending time with some of our favorite friends has got me thinking about just how many favorite friends we have. In fact we loved telling stories of our other favorites to the favorites we were spending time with and we also loved hearing stories of their other favorites. There is real joy and zero jealousy in knowing that our Lifers have other Lifers.
Granted, it might be weird to be in a room with all of our favorites at the same time but the likeliness of that ever happening is slim.
It’s hard to explain. But rock solid.
Lifers laugh at things that are not funny to anyone else in the world
I mean gut laughing. The kind that hurts your ears. Over simple, ridiculous things. Shared moments that you think are hysterical but the entire population of the universe (with the sole exception of your Lifers) would not.
At all.
They would just squint . . . or maybe chuckle because they were embarrassed for you.
You and your Lifers though — you pee in your pants a little bit every time you talk about it.
For example: When I babysat our friend’s son he cried the whole time.
See? You’re squinting. But you should see us laugh (and pee) every single time we talk about it.
It makes no sense. But man it’s funny.
Lifers repeat themselves
When Lifers say “hello again” we have a limited amount of time and the clock starts ticking from the first hug. We also have a limited number of stories to remember because our times together are always short and sweet. So we choose our favorites and we relive them . . . the exact same stories we relived the last time we saw each other and the same stories that will relive again . . . every single time.
I can guarantee that should we all live to be old and senile, that boy’s great grandchildren will know that he cried the whole entire time that I babysat him.
It’s redundant. But it never gets old.
Lifers are worth investment
If your Lifers are like ours they are everywhere — literally spread out across the globe. Unless your bank account is considerably more impressive than ours and you have considerably more free time on your hands than we do, opportunities for reconnection are rare.
So when they come . . . pounce on them.
This time around our Lifers were the ones who opened the door for this to even be possible. We are so thankful they did.
Every Hello Again costs time and it costs money but the return on that investment is impossible to put a tag on.
It’s expensive. But so very worth it.
As a final sidenote I should add that I thought it would be a nice tribute to put pictures of all of our Lifers in this post. Two things stopped me.
• I was afraid I would miss one and they would be like, “oh I see how it is Jerkface” (even though they wouldn’t)
• We’ve got a lot of Lifers. More than I have ever realized.
It’s not a bad problem to have.
Maybe you (like me) have never taken time to count your Lifers. Give it a shot. I would bet you’ll be surprised.
Send them this post and say something like, “Yep. This is you.”
Then start dreaming about your next Hello . . . Again.
Jan 25, 2016 |
Ironically, this post is based entirely on an outright assumption.
My assumption is this. If crossing cultures is a part of your life then you probably have some comprehension of the things that prevent you from doing that well. You don’t need a blog to tell you that mockery (for example) is going to slow you down if you’re really trying grasp the heart and soul of a people group that is different from your own.
Let’s get honest — it doesn’t mean you don’t mock. The cheap laugh. The sarcastic wisecrack. The overstated accent. We’ve all gone there at some point but generally speaking we know it’s not a good thing. You’ll find very few blogs that defend mockery as a mechanism to thrive as an expat.
Plenty of them that mock. Few that defend it.
There are numerous other attackers of the healthy expat life. Obvious ones like racism (no-brainer there), arrogance, stereotyping, ethnocentrism, name-calling. How about crawling into a hole and hiding from reality? That’s one. Maybe screaming “SPEAK ENGLISH!!” at people who don’t know how. Not a best practice.
Nothing new there.
These are the super villains — the arch-enemies of understanding a culture that is different from your own. I’m assuming you know that already — BUT — in fairness, assuming should probably go on the list.
Ohhh the irony. Let’s roll with that.
This is a list of the lesser obvious bad guys. These are the culprits that you don’t see coming. They blend in with the best practices and sometimes they even share the same names. However, in their sneaky, subtle ways they often cause more trouble than the big ones.
These are the ironic enemies of living cross-culturally
(count-down style for dramatic effect)
Enemy # 5: Grinning
We’ve established mockery as a bad thing right? Usually expats (following a period of adjustment) develop an instinctively visceral reaction to blatant, full on mockery of their host culture.
I, for example, grow Wolverine claws when the “hilarious”, self-proclaimed comedians from my own culture pop off with something like, “OOOHHHH you go to China? Ah ching chang willy willy bing bang bong.”
Trust me. It happens.
Expats (at least the healthy ones) move past mockery. However — sometimes the remnants remain.
It comes in the form a tiny little grin — a raised eyebrow — a silent head shake — an under the breath giggle (or sometimes a snort). Often it’s a shared moment of eye contact with someone who knows exactly what you’re saying in your head even though you didn’t say a word out loud. It’s micro-mockery and chances are it is much less externally damaging than it’s full grown form. Unfortunately, internally it’s fueled from the same source — a betterness complex and a sense of cultural superiority.
Bonus tip: Judge your ownself. Apart from time and relationship there is no weapon that works against mockery except the “awkward juke of shame”.
“You know guys, I just really don’t feel like that kind of talk is appropriate.”
That will stop Mr. Ching Chang dead in his tracks but it won’t change his heart. He just learned that he can’t make that joke around you . . . because you are hypersensitive. Try starting by being aware of where your own grins are coming from and model something different.
Enemy #4: Progress
Cross-cultural progress is a wild ride. I have a reputable source who says I am not the only one who set goals on the front end of my expat experience which turned out to be tantamount to a typical New Year’s resolution. Dropped cold by week three.
The consequence is a feeling (somewhere along the line) that we have failed miserably as expats.
“I thought I would be fluent by now and I can only order three dishes.”
“I planned to have great relationships and I haven’t even met my neighbors.”
“I was so ready to go exploring and I’ve barely left my apartment.”
We’re stuck with a depressing sense that we have made zero progress — UNTIL — someone comes to visit from our previous life.
IT IS AWESOME!
In one trip to the airport we transform into some kind of an expat superstar. The last time you saw these people you were at exactly the same level of linguistic fluency and cultural savvy. Now look at you. You’re practically a local.
So you see, progress can leave you delusional on both ends. You mistake yourself for a miserable failure or a colossal success based on a misguided assessment of what progress is supposed to look like.
Bonus Tip: Slow and steady wins the race. Progress (of course) is not an inherently bad thing but it doesn’t function well in extremes. Your benchmark is not the people who know nothing anymore than it is the people who know everything. Keep moving forward.
Enemy #3: High Praise
It’s been nearly ten years since we first moved to China. I must have ridden in a thousand taxis. That means that 900 plus taxi drivers have told me how great my Chinese is.
It’s really not.
Generally I lead with something simple like, “ni hao” which means “hello”. To which they say “WAAAH!! You’re Chinese is SO good!”
To which I say, “why thank you — I have been working on my ‘hello’.”
I know that not all expat experiences are like my China one but often a misunderstanding of cultural obligations surrounding hospitality combined with low expectations of the foreigners (like myself) result in a sort of surface level accolade that is easily mistaken by the dolt foreigner (like myself) as a fair and accurate assessment. “These people love me and wish they could be more like me!”
Sounds ridiculous but it’s not far from spot on.
Living in a highly complimentary host culture is not a bad gig if you can get it. However, the really good stuff is below the surface. Expats who set up camp in a La La Land of “They love me” miss the joy of genuine relationship. It’s a painful moment, though, when the Emperor discovers he’s not wearing clothes.
Bonus Tip: Ask double third person questions. Don’t ask your friends what they think of you. Ask them what their friends think of other foreigners — then assume that’s what they think of you. Brace yourself. You may be naked.
Enemy #2: Asking “WHY?”
Some of the best advice I ever got came from a veteran expat who told me to stop asking “why”.
My first response was knee jerk . . . “Seriously? Why?”
“Why” is the core. It is the source. It is the deep-rooted nucleus of everything that is happening around you. It is often ancient at it’s origins but complexified by hundreds, maybe thousands of years of socio-cultural events, political uprisings, economic trends, religious undertones and philosophical masterminds. Not to mention every “why” has a different answer — a different source — a different nucleus.
“Why do they eat with sticks?”
“Why do they rub noses?
“Why do they slam the ball into the ground, scream at the sky and punch each other when they score?”
The first assumption when you ask “why” is that the person whom you have asked actually knows the answer. The second assumption is that once you have heard it, you do too. Asked and answered is far too simple a process for nuclear topics.
Why should you not ask why? (are you following the irony here?). Because you can’t handle the why. That’s why.
Be a constant inquisitor but ask “who, what, when, where, how?” “Why” will become clearer over time.
Bonus tip: If you must ask “why” commit to asking it 100 times. Don’t accept that the first answer is the full one. Pile a hundred partially correct answers together, though, and you’ll start to get the picture. You’ll also realize how big the question is.
AND the #1 (ironic) enemy of living cross culturally . . . drum roll please
Enemy #1: Grace
If you have ever read anything that I have written you’re likely calling me a big fat hypocrite right now.
You are freakishly observant.
Grace is a theme for me. I have held it out there as a key (if not THE key) to thriving in practically every aspect of cross-cultural life (if not life in general).
See for yourself . . .
Leaving Well
Landing Well
Staying Well
Receiving Well
Going Nowhere
I’m like a broken record and I’m not taking it back — but I’ve noticed something about myself.
I am great at extending grace . . . selectively.
Here’s an example: I am quick to give grace to my Chinese friends if they say something that could sound offensive.
“Meh — it’s cultural. They probably don’t know any better.”
However — When my friends back home (the ones who look, talk, think and act like me) say something equally offensive (“ching chang” for example) I am disproportionately slower to allow grace into the equation.
“Idiots. They should know better.”
This is where it stings a little. My selective grace — my harshness towards my own — is actually an expression of my own betterness complex.
“My people should know better than the poor, uninformed others.”
Don’t read me wrong. I’m NOT suggesting that you should give less grace to your host culture. Please don’t. Nor am I suggesting that you should let Mr. Ching Chang entirely off the hook. You can play that one by ear.
I may not even be suggesting anything but what I have recognized in myself is that when there is a disparity in my willingness to give grace it may be a result of some uncovered, yet to be dealt with prejudice.
In other words — when I’m pointing out one group’s prejudice and ignoring another’s . . . I’m revealing my own.
Ouch.
Bonus Tip: Cultures are not just foreign. It helps to recognize that “my people” have a culture too. A rich and imperfect history. A deep and misguided understanding of the world. A vast set of presuppositions built on centuries of shared experiences.
There they are. The sneaky. The subtle. The ironic enemies of living cross-culturally.
Now you know and “Knowledge is Power”.
Ironically “knowledge” should probably be on the list since once you think you know something you stop trying to understand it.
Ohh the irony. Let’s stop there.
Something to add? Ironic enemy # 6? #7? #8? Comment below and pass it on.
Jan 13, 2016 |
In the expatosphere we tend to focus on the bookends of our cross-cultural experience. Starting well. Ending well. Moving on.
Between Stayers, Goers and Newbies the Stayers tend to get the least attention. But the space between the bookends are where the books are.
The time between landing and leaving is where the real story is. The adventure. The tension. The characters. The conflict. The resolution. The tragedy and the comedy. It’s all in the books but transition resources disproportionately target the bookends.
Fair enough. Bookends are important. Without them the books fall over.
Too metaphorical?
Starting your cross-cultural experience well AND ending it well matters — a lot — BUT the whole point of starting well is SO you can STAY well and leaving well is really hard when the whole experience has been a mess.
We lean towards the mentality that transition only happens when we cram all of our earthly possessions into plastic tubs and fly off into the sunset but it doesn’t take an expat long to figure out that the TRANSITION NEVER STOPS.
Read “The Transition That Never Ends: The ongoing cycle of expat Stayers, Goers and Newbies” for more about that.
For those of you who are going nowhere but your world never stops moving — here are some tips that I have found helpful but let’s be real here . . . we’re not even going the scratch the surface of Staying Well in one blog post. Don’t hold back — we need your wisdom.
1. Keep your CORE door open
Here’s an all too typical scenario — As a Newby you show up wide eyed and set for the adventure of a lifetime. The veterans roll their eyes at your naiveté and unseasoned enthusiasm. It’s awkward BUT you find your way. You make a friend. And another. Maybe two more and it is so good. You connect and do life together as bumbling foreigners who really enjoy each other. You’re cordial with everyone but you’ve found your Core group. Time passes.
Wide eyed newbies come and you roll your eyes at their naiveté and unseasoned enthusiasm.
Then it happens. The first of your Core breaks the news. Moving on. Then another. Then two more.
This may all happen over the course of years but if you’re planning to be a Stayer, Goers are going to be a part of your reality. You can brace for it but if you’ve closed the door to your Core it’s just a matter of time before you’re lonely and left out. Chances are you’ll become a Goer yourself.
Look at the Newbies. The veterans. The other Stayers. Who could you really connect with that you have not yet?
2. Build trust with people who aren’t leaving
With a few beautiful exceptions expats aren’t lifers. They come and they go.
Expats, however, are not the only characters in your story. Building deep, lasting friendships with local people is a brilliant move towards staying well. The friendship alone would be worth it but the insight gained is pure gold. Close local friends open a window to your host culture that is otherwise bolted shut.
- You can learn a lot from the other expats but it will always come from a foreigner’s perspective.
- You can also learn a lot from local acquaintances but you’ll likely get the version that is safe for foreigners.
- When you’ve got a bonafide non-foreign friend you get access to a whole new world of understanding. Real heart stuff. Opinions, perspectives and information that you assumed you already understood but found out you were WAY off.
No doubt, those relationships can be more challenging, especially when language differences and deep cultural gaps are a reality. Cross-cultural relationships require boatloads of intentionality. They take longer to establish and (in many cases) may not be nearly as established as you think they are. Not to mention you may learn truths that are hard to know. It’s not easy but it is good.
Take your time. Build trust. Be trustworthy. You have so much to learn.
3. Reboot your sense of wonder
Remember when you got off the plane? Wide eyed. Confident. So ready.
You were primed for the adventure. Couldn’t wait to study a new language, explore a new culture and dive head first into the magnificent unknown.
What the heck happened?
I can answer that for you. You discovered reality, that’s what happened. You figured out how to make life normal again and in the process you found out that your new normal looks almost nothing like the high culture stereotypes that you came in with. Your grand adventure includes laundry, dishes and binge watching sitcoms.
Don’t feel bad. Misinformed, awestruck wonder is rarely sustainable. Honeymoons don’t last forever.
Informed wonder, on the other hand — that’s where it gets good. Now that your eyes are opened to what real life looks like, why not reboot and re-engage. Learn the history of your host culture. Study the art, the architecture, the current events. Learn a song, a dance, a poem, a story. Take a trip, eat something painfully local. Go back to the adventure but do it all fully aware that you need to do a load of whites before you go to bed.
What are three things that you used to be excited about but haven’t thought of for a long time?
4. Break out of “Expert Survivor” mode
Expats are phenomenal survivors. Foreign life can be tough at first, especially if there is a language barrier but we’ve got to eat right? So we instinctively sniff out the restaurants with picture menus. We memorize the names of our five favorite dishes. We become masters of charades and don’t mind flapping our arms or clucking out loud in a crowded McDonalds to get a chicken sandwich.
Even if language is not an issue, as outsiders, we tend to find our “go to” spots and our sure fire routines. It’s hard work to discover new things. So when it’s crucial to our survival we work hard but once we’ve figured out how to live comfortably . . . why would we take the hard road?
Survival is an important phase of crossing cultures. It’s all too easy though, to settle for a level of functionality that would make us a laughing stock if we tried to mirror back home (insert mental image of clucking like a chicken at your home town McDondalds).
Stayers though, have an opportunity to go beyond survival. Again, intentionality is key.
Try a risky restaurant or new form of transportation. Try speaking local even when locals speak your language better. Get lost and find your way home.
As a sidenote — if you’re feeling judged here — don’t. I’m doing that thing where most of my fingers are pointing back at me. Makes it hard to typ,,
5. Host a visitor
Going home is nice but bringing home is superb. There is something really rich about seeing someone from your other life in your new world. It’s potentially surreal but it can be so good.
You might find that you instantly go from bumbling foreigner to expert on all things local. Those five dish names that you can pronounce can be easily mistaken for total fluency.
The best part though is the connection. There are galaxies of difference between going home and trying to tell your best expat stories to a friend who really doesn’t want to hear them and walking down the street with a visiting friend who is soaking it all in.
Galaxies.
That connection lasts a long time.
It may be a stretch but make the ask. Get your friends and family on your turf. Plan for a year. Share your frequent flier miles. It’s a great way to level up your relationship.
If you could have a week with anyone from your old life in the context of your new(er) one, who would it be?
6. Translate the REST of your life
Expats too often check significant parts of their lives at the airport. They assume that they can’t do things because it is not instantly obvious how they can. Runners quit running because pollution is too high. Musicians quit playing because they don’t want to carry their equipment all that way. Gardeners quit gardening. Woodworkers quit woodworking. Painters quit painting.
That’s one thing if you’re only doing this for a couple of years. If you’re staying, though, don’t give up hope on maintaining important chunks of your identity. You don’t just run . . . you ARE a runner.
You may be frustrated because you can’t do your hobbies and your habits EXACTLY that way you have always done them.
Fair enough.
So don’t even try to TRANSPLANT them. You can’t. You can, however, TRANSLATE them.
Ask yourself how you can you do your old thing in the context of your new life? Keep in mind that something is always lost in translation. It may look and feel like a different thing at first but don’t leave behind things you love because you’ve assumed that they are no longer possible.
What’s missing? Did you check any part of your life at the airport? Go get it back.
7. Embrace ignorance
Compared to where you started you’re pretty much an international genius. Compared to your people back home your grasp on the politics and culture and customs and mannerisms and all of the intricate nuances of living abroad is incredible. You’ve come a long, long way.
Compared to what you have yet to learn however (no matter how long you’ve been a Stayer) . . .
Yeah.
Don’t feel bad. Being ignorant is not a bad thing unless you think you’re not. If you’re ignorant (and aware of it) you’ve got room to learn. If you’ve found an answer you’re likely to stop looking for one.
That is the biggest challenge for the Stayer. Once you’ve been there for a while you feel like you should know it all.
You don’t. Admit it. Embrace it.
What have your learned the most about your host culture? Re-open the case. Learn something new about the stuff you thought you were an expert in.
8. Emulate the Greats
Look around. Who are the heroes in your story? Who are the Stayers who have stayed well? Who are the high functioning veterans that add life to the expat community, respect and engage the locals and haven’t settled for merely surviving?
Now pick them apart. What is it about them that you want to add to your experience. What are the characteristics, the habits, the intentional behaviors and routines that make them good at being a foreigner.
Do those things.
Name your top three Greats. Seek their wisdom.
9. Process without complaining
Processing and complaining can start with the exact same statement. For example “This is really hard.”
That is a fair and true statement but what you do with it sets you on one of two trajectories that ultimately lead to very different places. Processing the hard stuff is absolutely critical for staying well. Verbalizing the tough realities (as opposed to stuffing them) is a healthy discipline. However complaining (at least habitually) is toxic for you and the people around you.
Here’s the difference.
- Processors want wisdom — Complainers want sympathy.
- Processors are seeking comfort on the other side of the challenge — Complainers are seeking instant release.
- Processors identify the real challenge and work towards a solution — Complainers belittle so the challenge can be ignored.
- Processers enjoy resolution — Complainers are chained to unresolved issues.
- Processors respect local culture even when it doesn’t make sense to them — Complainers mock local culture.
- Processers recognize that they may be a part of the problem — Complainers always blame someone or something else.
- Processors recognize they are ignorant — Complainers pretend they are not.
- Processors attract other processors who are seeking wisdom — Complainers attract other complainers who are seeking validation.
Good news — if you’re realizing you’re a complainer right now you are not alone. We all are at some point. Processing requires discipline (while complaining comes quite naturally). It’s a discipline well worth developing if you want to be a Stayer.
Be brutally honest. Are you a processor or a complainer?
sidenote — If you’re thinking of all the other complainers right now (and how bad they are) — you might be one. Just a thought.
10. Grace, Grace and more Grace
Your expat story is a good one and like all good stories it’s got tension. There are conflicts and complications and hiccups along the way that keep it both interesting and frustrating. The characters range from kindred spirit, life long connections to bumbling villainous idiots whose only role seems to be to irritate the pot out of you.
Stayers — the Great ones — are constant learners even though they already understand more than most. They are incessant listeners even though they have so much to say. They are humble even though their abilities and their accomplishments would outshine everyone around. They are respectful and they stimulate broader respect. They honor their hosts. They inspire their teams. They challenge everyone towards a better option.
More than anything (in my opinion) — they understand that this whole thing doesn’t work without grace.
- Wide-eyed, know-it-all Newbies need grace to become great Stayers.
- Core group Goers need grace to go well and remain life-long friends.
- Locals need grace while you try to figure them out (and vice versa).
- Annoying fellow expats need grace. Period.
- Friends and family back home need grace when they say horribly offensive things about your new friends.
- Processors need grace so they are not mistaken for complainers.
- Complainers need grace to recognize there is a better way.
And what about you?
If you’re planning to be a Stayer — you’re going to need healthy doses of grace. Take some for yourself.
Surface — unscratched. Help us out Stayers. What are your tips for staying well?
Comment below and pass this on.
Nov 9, 2015 |
Expats are big decision makers. It’s what we do. It’s how we roll.
This whole cross cultural experience started with a decision that impacted every aspect of our lives.
“Hey honey, how would you feel about about moving.”
“Ooo — yes. There’s a really cute place over by my mother’s.”
“Yeah . . . I was thinking Zimbabwe.”
And that was the match that lit the fire. There are roughly 36,000 steps between that moment and your first day as a foreigner. I’ve considered writing a book about it but who wants to read that?
“The 36,ooo Steps To Becoming a Highly Effective Expat”
Not me.
Even though BECOMING an expat is a big decision those who do it very quickly discover that BEING an expat is the great decision inflator. Every decision takes up more space. Even the ones that used to be simple . . . like eating food . . . and saying words.
It gets better with time and discovery but expats are no foreigners to making big decisions.
There is ONE big decision however that circles overhead for the duration of our time abroad. It’s the looming question that we all wrestle with in varying degrees and often multiple times over the course of our expatriate lives . . .
When is it time to leave?
For many it’s easily dismissed with a simple “not yet.” For others the decision is out of their control . . .
“Contract’s up, we’re sending you home.”
“Embassy was attacked — everybody out.”
BUT — in any given time zone at any given moment there are thousands of expats grappling with the not so simple question,
“Should I stay or should I go?”
I’ve talked with dozens of these people in the past few weeks and hundreds in the past few years. Here are some of the highlights from those conversations and some things you might consider if you’re one of those expats right now:
1. Deciding to leave is a not an event it is a process
One of the biggest “Aha moments” ever for me was discovering leaving is not about the date on my plane ticket. I’m leaving long before then and continue to leave long after. It’s a process that ramps up (usually for months) to the airplane and then spends months ramping down.
You can read more about that here — Leaving Well: 10 Tips for Repatriating With Dignity
The crazy bit is that the process itself actually encompasses a number of other processes. Deciding to leave is one of those. Announcing that fact is another. Then you can get down to the ongoing process of leaving well.
Reframing your decision as a process cuts you loose from the pressure of needing to know right now. There are a lot of pieces to consider. Slow down. Think it through.
Processing also reminds you that something should be happening now. Telling yourself that you will have a decision by the first of the year is not just postponing the event. You should be in that process between now and then.
2. Embrace the paradox
You’re no stranger to this one. This whole thing has been a paradox from day one.
Crossing cultures is one of the most starkly contradictory experiences life has to offer. It is wonderfully horrible and horribly wonderful and grasping that is key to thriving while abroad. Those who can’t find anything good have a miserable and depressing experience. Those who don’t acknowledge anything bad crash harder than the miserable and depressed ones.
It’s hard — but it’s good.
Leaving is not the exception here. Neither is staying.
The grass may be greener on the other side of the fence but that pasture is not without it’s fair share of weeds or manure.
(Confucius totally should have said that)
Whether you land on staying or going, embrace the paradox in the process. Explore the realities (good and bad) of all angles.
3. Wait until the ride has come to a complete stop
Life cross-cultural can be an emotional roller coaster. If that rings a bell you’re not alone. It is uber common for expats to feel like they want to stay forever on Monday morning and get on the next plane out by Monday afternoon. This is especially common in the first two years but not at all restricted to then. You may have been abroad for years and still go through roller coaster phases.
It’s ok. You’re not abnormal.
BUT — The worst possible time to get off of a roller coaster is in the middle of the ride.
Fight the urge to make a decision while you can’t seem to make a decision. Barring other external circumstances you’re probably better off staying in your seat and screaming for a bit.
Just so we’re clear. If you can’t choose between staying or going . . . stay. Ride it out. Don’t go and then wonder if you should have stayed.
4. Don’t confuse cancer for high crime
“I’m not sure this is a healthy environment for me.”
I’ve heard this sentence (and probably said it) more than once. Sometimes it’s legit. Maybe there is something truly toxic, abusive or threatening that is pushing you to consider leaving. Understandable. You can move on to the next point.
However, 97% (I made up that statistic to emphasize my point) of the time this sentence describes tough relationships. A demanding leader. A gossipy team. A lack of friends.
Here’s a metaphor. You can learn to live in a high crime area (much of the world does) even if that’s not where you’re from. You do have to make some major life adjustments that are based on applying wisdom to hard truths. HOWEVER — No matter how much wisdom you apply, your chances of survival in a bad neighborhood go down dramatically . . . if you have cancer and don’t treat it.
The moral of this story? No matter where you live there is no guarantee of affirming leaders, non-gossipy teams and super friends (the community type not the Wonder Twin type). Don’t run from an “unhealthy” place. Get healthy.
Then you can go anywhere.
5. Don’t overestimate your contribution
Sometimes people stay because things would fall apart if they left.
They don’t though . . . fall apart that is . . . when they leave.
Generally speaking (and of course there are always exceptions) cross-cultural endeavors are built to absorb the shock of transience. People come and people go. It doesn’t mean you won’t be missed. That’s a different issue.
Steve Jobs died.
I just typed that on my Mac which is plugged into my iPhone.
See what I’m saying? This thing will go on without you and yet, you are still important.
6. Don’t go (or stay) . . . on a guilt trip
“You’re leaving because you met someone on eHarmony? Wow. Shallow.”
“Aunt Bessie was asking about you. She’s probably not gonna’ be around long.”
“I came here to help people. I can’t imagine going home when so many people are hurting. Maybe you can . . . but I can’t.”
“People are hurting here at home too. They sure could use somebody like you.”
Pause. You know that these people . . . these well meaning people love you, right? They do — and they speak (almost usually) out of that love. It’s important that you start there.
Guilt, however, is a terrible decision driver. You can listen respectfully. You can also add every valid observation from noble-intentioned friends and family to the 4 billion other factors that you need to consider as you process your choice.
If you decide based on guilt though, you’ll never get away from it.
7. Be painfully honest
People who yearn for something become expert justifiers to get it. When those people interact with others (especially friends and family) on the subject of their yearning, the pressure builds. There is a compulsion to block, even the most legitimate, questions and objections.
SO — we find trump cards and shut the conversation down cold.
“It’s what’s best for my family.”
“My doctor says it would be better.”
“My kids really needs this.”
“I just know this is God’s will right now.”
ALL of these are great, valid, viable reasons to stay or go — that’s not the point. The point is that it takes some painfully honest introspection to discern whether these are REALLY your reasons — OR — you have discovered and defaulted to the one answer that no can argue with?
Don’t guard yourself from the tough questions and objections. Instead let those be the refining part of your decision process.
8. Consider option A.5?
If A is stay and B is go . . . is there anything else? Something in between maybe?
Sometimes we box ourselves into a two option scenario. While you are processing, why not wander around and explore outside of the box.
- Could you stay and take on a different role?
- Can you move laterally within the same organization?
- Is there another expat opportunity available? A different country? New opportunity?
- Do you just need a break to recharge? What are your options for that?
- Could you do an extended visit home? A sabbatical? A year off?
Possible? Not possible?
That’s the point of exploring. You may be surprised to discover an option that you hadn’t dreamed of. You may find that there actually are only options A and B.
Either way — it’s worth some thought.
9. Lay a solid brick?
Expats are almost never pillars of their community. They don’t stay long enough for that and even if they stayed for 50 years their communities would change dozens of times around them.
Transient people are more like brick layers. Your life will look like a big brick wall. Chase this metaphor with me for a minute.
When you’re building a brick wall EVERY single brick is important. One sandy, mushy brick and I can poke a hole in your wall. Two or three and the whole structure is compromised.
Here are some things that cause mushy bricks:
- The wrong materials in your brick.
- Your brick didn’t set long enough to get hard.
- You moved on to the next brick before you finished laying the one you were on.
Ask yourself (and be painfully honest again) — is the brick you are laying right now solid?
Have you engaged? Gone deep? Added value to the place where you are?
Have you stayed long enough?
Have you already checked out?
10. Build your processing list
Deciding to stay or go is a process. We covered that right?
So what are you processing? I mean besides those two choices. What are the factors? The variables? The consequences? The benefits? The challenges?
If you try to process without slowing down you’re bound to miss something.
Try this.
Set your timer for 2 minutes. Grab a pen and paper. Mark it “STAY” then divide it into “PROS” and “CONS”
For 2 minutes (and 2 minutes only) write as many Pros to Staying as you can possibly come up with. Don’t think. Just write.
GO!
Now do two minutes for “Cons”.
Now do the same for “Going Pros” and “Going Cons”
You’ll be surprised what comes out and you’re likely to discover that you can produce a lot more in 8 intensely focused minutes than you can in 8 hours bouncing back and forth.
STOP — Remember that this exercise is NOT about making your decision. It’s about building your list of things to process. Don’t just look at which list is longer. Some of these things are weighted more heavily than others. Try rating them 1-5 to get some perspective on which sides are heavier.
Again. Don’t think. Just rate.
You’re still not there. Spend some time with your lists. Make connections. Draw lines and circles and stars and smiley faces. Make notes about the pieces that seem to be really significant — good or bad. What are the themes?
Learn something about yourself.
When you’re finished you should have a much clearer picture of what you need to spend time processing.
11. Seek wisdom
This one is simple.
This is a big decision. Don’t just read a blog. Find people you trust and invite them into your process.
12. Is it time?
I have had hundreds of one on one conversations with people who are either leaving or leaning that direction.
I try my hardest to shake them up. Throw them a loop. Make them consider something that they haven’t yet. I don’t try to change their minds I just push them to think it through . . . all the way.
In all of those conversations there have been a handful who are absolutely unshakeable and they have all responded with a nearly identical answer.
“It’s time.”
That’s it. They don’t justify their answer. They don’t defend their thinking. There is no shakiness in their voice.
They just know. They have found the wisdom that they went looking for and the peace that may not even make sense to them. They’ve been through the process and they speak with absolute confidence.
“It’s time.”
If you can’t say that honestly . . . not as a trump card but with absolute conviction — then it probably means one of two things:
- It’s not time
- You’ve got some processing to do
Grab a pen.
These are just a few things I learned from a bunch of great expats. There is so much more to learn.
What have you learned?
Share your wisdom in the comments below.
Pass this on to your processing friends.